


Marley's

by Confusedgoth



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, No Lesbians Die, Not Beta Read, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confusedgoth/pseuds/Confusedgoth
Summary: Mob boss Ymir discoverers she has one weakness, a beautiful (and cunning and kind) stripper named Historia(or, the Mafia! Stripclub! Ymir/Historia fic you didn't know you were craving)
Relationships: Hitch Dreyse/Marlo Sand | Marlowe Freudenberg, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 19
Kudos: 86





	1. Friday, the First

Historia liked her job. 

She did, no really she did, no matter how much shit she got for it. Her job was finacing her masters and paying off her loans from underground, and she was damn good at it, and wouldn’t be shamed by anyone, thanks so very much. 

Her friends used to bring it up, but stopped after that one time at movie night where Armin tentatively brought up that maybe she should look somewhere else for employment(“Starbucks is hiring, Hissy,”) and Historia had snapped so fiercely that no one spoke for the rest of the movie, or as they left her apartment for that matter (or for a couple of days, until Armin sent a _Vice_ article in to their group chat about the industry with the text, “pretty neat!” accompanying it, and HIstoria had accepted his olive branch.).

She didn’t give a shit about being “empowered” - because no one ever asked a fucking lawyer or delivery man or cashier that so why should she play along?- but she did give a shit at the adrenaline rush after a good night, and especially gave a shit when the money hit her direct deposit, after folding it nicely for the lady at the bank and everything. 

Historia was a stripper, and she was _damn good_ at it. 

She made that pole her bitch and a half thanks, and could do all kinds of tricks to boot. She was a top earner, people through their entire weekly _salaries_ at her for one quick dance to a Nelly song. 

Historia liked how invincible she felt. 

However, Historia was in no way dumb. She knew the club was owned by quote, “dangerous people”, but she kept her head down, kept clean, and kept herself out of that business. 

Well, she did. Until tonight. 

It was a normal Friday night. 

Dolled up in a pink bra and panties set with matching pasties, Historia had taken to the stage twice already and raked in nearly 300 in ones, a little slow for a Friday, but it was only like 7 and she figured more people would be on their way soon. 

She was wrong, lazing about, puzzled at the lack of customers until 11 on the dot. The door swung open, and what Historia could only describe as a _horde_ descended through the club. They were dressed pretty similar, and upon seeing them some of the regulars fled for the exits. There was maybe 40? 50? Historia had never seen people flee like that, except for at closing when the bouncers had to chase them out when it was well past 3 am. 

She tried to reach for a regular as he hustled toward the door, snagging him by the arm.

“Floch,” She managed, breathless, “What the hell is happening”

Temporarily stuck in her grip, he grimaced.

“The boss is coming.”

With that he tore from her grip, almost upending her fucking acrylic, and dashed for the exit, leaving Historia gaping at the spot where he stood. 

For all her success, Historia was a baby stripper, nearly through and through. She still tripped in her Pleasers and struggled to hold herself up on some of her tricks, but her overall stage presence tended to get her pretty far. She’d only been doing it for about 5 months, and not once had the “Boss” been present when she was. She almost wondered if the “Boss” was a myth to trick them in to not fucking up. 

She watched, stock still, as more people flooded in, each with a brooch over their hearts that Historia noticed with a start- _The wings!_.

The Scouts were one of the most feared gangs in the fucking country, bar all, and their Wings of Freedom were identifiable to any person with internet access or a TV, or a fucking brain because they were simulatniously everywhere and no where at the same time. Any Scout controlled territory had at least one crudely painted Wings mural somewhere in its zip code. Historia would know. There were two in her neighborhood. 

Nobody really knew anything about the Scouts leadership, which made them so fearsome, and Historia gulped. Was the Boss, her Boss, THE Boss? 

“Historia! Goddammit!” She flinched, and turned to see Hitch barreling toward her, the tassels attached to her nipples dangling almost comically. 

Historia thinks she's going batshit.

“You’re on in fucking five, and in case you haven’t noticed,” Hitch gestured wildly, “We have fucking company”

“Yeah,” Historia started, “Uh, sorry, Hitchie. I’m coming”

With that she turned tail and hurried backstage, trying to settle the uneasy feeling in her tummy. 

\-----

Ymir never really cared about power, was the weird thing. 

She was happy being a fucking lackey, shuffling pills and crack and guns across the country, happy with her lot in life, until Marcel had fucking died on her watch, and suddenly his duties were thrust in her hands. 

“It’s the way of things, Ymir.” Bertholdt had explained, exasperated. She was still pretty new to the whole “family” thing, only crossed over six months before. She hadn't really had a choice, nearly homeless, and with Reiner dangling wealth and stability in front of her nose she had jumped at the chance to escape her current situation. They were circling Marcel’s lifeless body, a heart attack or more likely an overdose, Bertholdt had said. (Actually, Ymir knew it was an overdose, but she didn’t need Porco or anyone knowing that, so she kept her mouth shut) “We believe part of the old soul goes into the new one when it dies. Hence,” He gestured wildly. “You’re in charge now.” 

Back then they had been pretty small fry, Marcel hadn’t exactly wanted to be a kingpin, he just wanted to keep his family safe, and that Ymir could respect. However, once she got that power? It was intoxicating, and she made quick work of her enemies, either bowing them to submission or killing them outright. Well not her. She was the boss. But her little Scouts made quick work of her opposition. It still brought her a sense of smug pride. 

She was originally from Trost, and was delighted to find how much holding Marcel held there. She upended HQ from Shigansha, and dragged the Scouts with her clear across the country. 

Marcel held a lot of real estate, from housing to restaurants, to a gentlemen's club on the outskirts of the city limits. Ymir had been curious, she couldn’t help it, and insisted on meetings there occasionally, usually when a visiting Boss wanted to talk business and Ymir wanted them more distracted with the naked women than the fact that she was usually swindling or short changing them. 

Of course, it was not without benefit for Ymir. Everyone who worked at _Marley’s_ was beautiful, especially the women. 

She’d been criss crossing the country for months and hadn’t had a chance to go to Marley’s, until she realized she’d be in town, briefly for a Friday, the same Friday Marlow from the MP wanted to discuss jurisdiction in the Maria district. 

She reveled in the way the club cleared out when she entered, the way they led her to the front and center of the stage, bourbon already chilled on the table, with two chairs on either side for Bertholdt and Reiner (She couldn’t be too safe).

She led the somewhat starstruck Marlow through the club, towards her normal table, noting the way he gaped after that little blonde girl- Hitch? She thinks it is. 

They settle in to their seat just as the lights dim dramatically and a voice announces, 

“Presenting, The Queen of Marley’s...Christa!” 

The curtain opened, and Ymir fell in love.


	2. The First Dance

Historia felt herself wobbling on her heel and grabbed on to the backstage wall for stability. She got nervous, sure, everyone does, but normally she could shake her head out, laugh backstage with Hitch or Mina or sneak a shot past the house mom. But tonight? Nobody was laughing, and everyone was tense, most of all Historia. She tried to do the calming breaths Armin taught her a couple years back but they came out shaky and unsure. 

She tried to convince herself that the Boss being here didn’t matter, even if she had no idea who they were or what they looked like (and that every worker in the premises looked like they were going to pop a blood vessel) They were more than likely some aging bald man, and Historia dealt with like 100 of those on a daily basis. 

_Yeah,_ She thought to herself, _Just some old man. No big deal_

“Historia!” Petra, the house mother, called out. “You’re on in two. Take your spot” 

Historia nodded and walked out to the middle of the stage, gripping the pole in her hand loosely, and trying to ignore how sweaty her palms were.

She locked her gaze dead ahead, on the plush velvet curtain that was her only remaining barrier between her and her audience, between Historia and Queen Christa. She heard the laughter and murmurs of drunk revelers, and strained to hear anything useful. 

Her thoughts were cut off by the booming voice of the announcer, and steadied herself, plastering a coy smile on her face. 

The curtain rose and Historia let her body feel the first few beats of the music, swaying her hips in time. Wolf-whistles burst out in the crowd. She giggled, somewhat over the top, flipping her hair, and turning around the pole. From here, the lights of the stage all but blocked the faces of the crowd, which calms Historia substantially. She tightens her grip on the pole and hoists herself up, legs spread wide in a split as she twists and twirls around the pole. 

Reveling in the cheers she was getting, she hooks both her legs around the pole and leans backwards, accentuating the arch of her back. She turns around the pole like this once, twice, and then forces herself further backwards until her hands touch the floor. She pushes off, and flips over herself, landing in a perfect split. As the crowd cheers and money falls around her she shakes her ass (which has been commonly referred to as _perky_ and _plump_ , thanks) from her split, earning an excited yell from the table to her left and more money to fall. 

Taking a second to breathe (while still shaking her ass for all she’s worth), Historia clocked where she was in her set. The next section required her to go down the catwalk, where patrons could stick dollars in her g-string and get up close and personal with her. 

It was always her least favorite part of the set. 

Pushing herself out of the split, she crawls on her hands and knees down the cat walk, giggling and tossing her head at people on either side as goes, pausing and simpering as they slip money in her bra, finally stopping near the end. She sits up on her knees and leans back, head tossed seductively to the side as she runs her hands up her thighs, her fingers playing with the top of her g-string. 

Turning her head forward, she opens her eyes, and gets the wind knocked out of her. 

Sitting in _the_ VIP table, directly in front of her, sits the sexiest woman Historia has ever seen. She’d never seen that table filled before, it was always kept empty. Historia just assumed they didn’t rent it out, for dancer safety or something. She was _new_ here, she didn’t know! 

The woman was tall and tan, with dark chestnut hair and sharp eyes that cut Historia to the quick. She’s dressed in a black suit and loose fitting button down, and her fingers (oh god, her fingers) were clad in a variety of large silver rings (was that one shaped like a skull?) that screamed wealth.

And she was smirking at Historia.

It hit her like a ton of bricks, the empty table, the lackeys on either side, the fact that she’s dead center- this is the Boss! 

Oh. Now this was something she could work with.

\------

Ymir’s been trying to keep it together the second this Christa girl takes the stage. She must be new, Ymir’s never seen her here before, but she must be talented if they were referring to her as Queen. She thought briefly about asking Petra after the show, but then Christa spread her legs _wide_ and all rational thought pretty much left her brain. 

She wasn’t the only one, Reiner looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head, leading the Bertholdt leaning over and smacking him upside the head. Marlow seemed enchanted too, and didn’t seem to notice how tightly Ymir was gripping her bourbon. _Thank God_. Not super intimidating to be caught drooling over a girl like a teenager, she mused. 

Christa was working her way down the catwalk now, flirting with the audience as she went, and Ymir felt something in her heart clench. She wanted Christa to look at only her like that. One of Marlow’s men reached out to stuff a 20 in her bra and Ymir had to fight the urge to drag him out back and shoot him in the head. 

_Or do it right here. Teach him not to touch what’s mine_ She thought darkly. 

Wait. 

Hers? 

She didn’t have long to think about that slip when suddenly Christa was right in front of her, head tossed in faux ecstasy and hands skimming her thighs. Her breasts heaved, the skimpy pink bra doing little to hide their size. Ymir rakes her eyes over her body, as cool as she can, and is delighted when she catches Christa’s face and makes eye contact. 

Delighted, because Christa pauses. Only ever so briefly, no one else would notice, too caught up in the tits and ass, but Ymir did. Something shot through her when those blue eyes met her, those plump lips pursed in surprise, and then it was gone. There was something else in her eye’s now.

She looked like a predator who’d just found prey.

\--------

Standing, eye’s never leaving the Boss, Historia saunters over to the little staircase on the edge of the stage. She didn’t do this- ever, at least not during a set, not when she had the needs of the many to focus on and couldn't focus on the few, but this felt different. Something was pulling her towards this steely eyed woman, like a magnet. Heading down the stairs, she b-lines straight to the center table, attempting to pretend, briefly, like she cares about the other tables that were shouting for her. 

Swaying her hips as she goes, she finally makes it to the Boss’s table, and after sending a very quick prayer to any one who would listen, she swings her leg over the Boss’s lap and tosses her arms past the Boss’s shoulders, leaving her hands on the top of the chair, hovering just over her lap.

She hears wolf whistles and some lackey to her right bursting into laughter, but she ignored it. The Boss’s eyes were even more intense up close, and the way she was staring at her- almost hungrily, like Historia was going to be devoured- sent a shockwave right to Historia’s clit. 

She starts gyrating her hips, careful not to touch the Boss’s lap, and flips her hair in a way that she hopes is flirty. She tips her head in towards the others neck, panting lightly against it, delighting in the way she hears the woman’s breath hitch. She pulls back and places one hand on the arm rest, the other reaching up to untie her top. She tugs the knot free, the bra falling open and her tits, perky and large, pop free.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she smirks to herself when she sees the Boss’s hand twitch at her side, wanting to reach out and grab but knowing she was unable to. Historia straightens and leans forward, stopping just close to pressing her tits right in the other woman’s face. Speaking of her face, Historia swears she sees a touch of red, her jaw tight and eyes sharp. 

Historia presses against her, letting her tits brush against the suit jack and leans in. 

“See something you like?” She whispers. 

“You have no idea” Comes the husky reply, which sends a shudder down Historia’s spine that she knows the other woman can feel.

A hand lightly brushes her calf, the Boss’s control fading, and Historia grins. The song behind her is coming to an end and she leans in once more. 

“No touching applies to you too, _boss_ ” The startled gasp she gets in response makes her grin. 

And with that she’s untangling herself and doing up her bra one handed, drifting her other hand over the Boss’s leg before she turns around and sexily saunters back to the stage. She blows kisses as she goes, purposefully ignoring the center table. When she gets back to her starting point, hand on pole, she returns her gaze to the Boss. 

She’s smirking, gaze trained so intently on Historia she feels she might faint, tightening her grip on the pole. The curtain goes down, but Historia can still feel that stare, right through the plush velvet. 

\--------

“Well that was certainly a first” 

Ymir glares at Reiner, and Bertholdt- that traitor, lets out a chuckle. 

“Shut it, ass wipe.” 

“No seriously,” Reiner holds in a laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so worked up”

Ymir crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “That wasn’t even worked up, you dick”

“Oh good! Let me know the next time you’re here, I’d love to see Ms Scary Boss Lady cream in her pants” He tosses out a sharp laugh and swigs his drink, and Ymir considers breaking her glass over his head. 

“Reiner, be nice” Oh Bertholdt. Only Bertholdt oculd tell some one who commits murder for a livng to be nice. “Besides,” He lowers his voice, almost comically “Not in front of our visitor”

Reiner chuckles again and jerks his head in Marlow’s direction. 

“I think he’s a little preoccupied”

Ymir’s gaze falls on the man next to her, his eyes glued to the stage. The other little blonde one- Hitch was doing her set, ripping her bra off and tossing it excitedly in the air. The crowd whoops as she sets to work on her panties, and Ymir holds back a laugh at Marlow’s red face and the inopportune boner he was trying to cover right about now. 

Turning back to Reiner and Bertholdt, she straightens herself and adjusts her jacket, which had gotten a little rumpled during the lap dance. 

“So,” She drawls, sipping at her drink. “Do you two knuckleheads think you can hold it together if I get a private dance from the pretty lady?” 

Bertholdt spits part of his beer out and Reiner bursts back into laughter. 

“God, yes Boss Lady. We can manage bonerhead over here just fine while you get your rocks off” Reiner laughs at his own joke and wiggles his eyebrows at her seductively.

Ymir rolls her eyes and sighs, turning back to Marlow and rapping him suddenly on the shoulder. The man nearly jumped straight up, tearing his eyes off Hitch’s bare ass and meeting hers sheepishly. 

“I have some...business I must attend to briefly. Club issues, you understand.” Marlow nods frantically at this, eyes fighting the urge to dart back to Hitch. “I won’t be long, Reiner and Bertholdt however are more than qualified for any questions or concerns you’ll have in my absence” 

“O-of course, Ymir. I understand completely.” With that, he swivels back to the stage, watching enviously as Hitch starts tearing her pasties off, tossing one in to the crowd with a flourish. 

“Thank you, Marlow. As a show of good faith, I’ll arrange a private dance for you with Ms. Hitch. On the house, of course.” 

Marlow flushes a bright red and offers a sheepish thanks.

Ymir stands and walks towards where Petra is perched at the bar. 

“Petra” 

“Boss!” Her eyes widen and she shoves the drink in front of her backwards. “ I-I wasn’t slacking off or anything, I was just keeping Oulo company-” 

Ymir puts her hand up, silence falling over Petra immediately. 

“No worries, Petra. I just wanted to inform you that I would like a private dance from Christa at her earliest possible convenience, as well as to arrange a dance between him,” She points to the back of Marlow’s head, “And her,” She points back up to Hitch.”Put them both on my card, double their standard VIP rate”

“Oh! Uh, yes of course Boss! Please wait in the champagne room and Christa will be there shortly!” Petra gestures wildly at Oulo, who somehow understands, and pours Ymir a new bourbon, sliding it across the counter towards her. 

“Thank you both.” Ymir grabs her drink and tilts her head in thanks, before heading towards the stairs and ascending up them. 

\--------

“Historia! Historia!” 

“What Petra?” Historia tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but it's been a long (horny) night, and Historia is looking forward to the date she’s planned in her head between her and her rabbit vibrator. 

“A VIP requested you for a private dance! Immediately!” Petra’s face is flushed, like she’d ran here from the bar. Knowing her she probably had. 

Historia swivels from her seat at the vanity and cocks her head to the side. Could it be…?

“A VIP?” 

“YES! Paying double VIP prices! Now hurry, get your shit back on” She tosses Historia’s bra top back at her and continues gesturing frantically. 

Rolling her eyes at her, Historia gets redressed and manages to shoo Petra away for five minutes while she adjusts her makeup. 

“Hey,” Hitch slides into the vanity next to her. “Didja hear? I got booked VIP” She had a shit eating grin on her face, and Historia let out a laugh. 

“Oh yeah? Me too.” 

“I wonder who it’s for. I hope it was the guy at Boss’s table, he was so dreamy…” She giggles and lays her head on hand. “I tried to throw a pastie in his direction but my aim wasn’t very good” Hitch frowns at herself in the mirror.

Historia rolls her eyes and grabs for something in her bag, pulling out two shooters and tossing one to Hitch. 

“Take one with me. I need to confidence” 

Hitch giggles loonily and clinks her shooter against Historia’s downing in a second. Historia tips hers back, reveling in the burn that went down her throat, letting it center her. 

“I gotta bounce,” She says as she stands and heads for the door “or Petra’ll kick my ass. Good luck with Prince Charming or whatever” 

“Thanks Hissie!” Hitch calls out after her retreating form. 

Historia walks back out into the club, waving at the men who jeer at her, and makes her way to the staircase. She walks up the stairs, gripping to the banister for support. She shouldn’t be so nervous. It might not even be her. There were a lot of high rollers who could afford VIP in the club tonight. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. It’ll probably just be some old man. 

Stopping at the door to the VIP champagne room, Historia sucks in a deep breath, and opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! comments keep me going. also lmk how we're feeling abt length should I fully like flesh out this universe? also lmk if you want me to write a hitch/marlow spin off of their lap dance scene


	3. The Second Dance

“Ah, how wonderful to see you again, Christa” 

Historia tried to hide her relieved grin, but could tell from the glimmer in the Boss’s eye that she was failing, horribly. 

She found she didn’t mind.

She strode across the room until she settled in front of the longue the Boss was lazily draped over. She looked so sexy like this, confident and assured, legs spread wide to Historia in invitation. 

“Same to you. Can I take your jacket?” She reaches off to a side table and grabs a bowl, shoving it towards the Boss. “Empty your pockets in here, I’m not trying to grind on your house key” 

The Boss chuckled and obliged her, dumping some spare change and a wallet into the bowl before reaching into her jacket and pulling out a gun from a hidden holster. She held Historia’s gaze, almost challenging, as she slid the jacket off, empty holster now visible against her ribcage. 

Historia was so wet. 

She knew, reasonably, in the back of her head, that being in an enclosed space with a sexy older woman who probably (definitely) murdered people was a bad idea, but something about the _danger_ of it all had Historia briefly worried that she might truly have a wet spot on her panties. 

“That a problem?” The Boss asked, tilting her head towards the bowl in Historia’s hand. 

“No, not at all. Just never seen on up close before” She grinned in a way she hoped was cheeky and placed the bowl back on the table. 

“What a shame,” The Boss leaned back again, eyes appraising. “I’ll have to teach you sometime” 

Historia let out a snort at that as she hooked her play list up to the speaker on the wall. She strode back over to the Boss and tossed her knee over her waist like earlier, reveling in how correct it felt. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Boss” 

“Oh, the contrary, little dove,” She felt strong hands gripping just short of tight on her hips, and the Boss leaned up and ghosted her lips across her ear. “I’m a woman of my word. I never break a promise”

Historia shuddered slightly, mildly starstruck, and horribly disappointed when she felt the hands on her hips drop back down. 

“No touching, yes?” If Historia didn’t know any better, she’d say the Boss was teasing her. 

“Usually,” Historia begins to sway her hips in time with the music, something horribly pop but also horribly sexual at the same time. “But maybe, if you’re good, I can bend it”. She glanced upwards, playing it off as a hair flip, searching for the little hidden security camera. 

The red light isn't blinking. The camera was off. 

_Of course_ the camera was off, she thinks with an inward eye roll and a sense of internal glee. 

Well. There goes all her self-control out the fucking window. 

She gazes back down as the woman she’s straddling and lowers herself a little more, brushing her ass across the other woman’s pelvis. She grins openly at the way the Boss’s hand is gripping the fabric of the longue. The Boss’s chest heaves a little, and her head is tipped back in reverence, eyes trailed on Historia’s every move. 

Historia lowers himself even more, until she’s seated in the other woman’s lap, and tosses her arms around the woman’s neck, pressing her forehead against the Boss’s as she increases her pace,loving the way her clit grinds against the hard fabric of the Boss’s pants.

Historia ground harder, deeper, gasping out, and she felt the Boss’s hand ghosting over her hips, as if asking for permission. 

“Y-you, You can touch” 

Hands grabbed her hips, just short of harsh, guiding them as they swayed and grinded. 

The Boss nudged her nose against Historia’s neck and she let out an unintentional sigh, it felt so _goood_ , in the way she knew it shouldn’t. She didn’t sleep with clients- no issues ot the girls who did- but she just didn’t, she just hadn't. A hand ghosted from her hips up her back, landing on her shoulder, tugging her unintentionally closer. 

Historia sped up her pace, somewhat cognizant that she herself was nearing an end. She stood up a bit, briefly brushing the Boss’s hands away and flipping herself around, back to chest, settling her ass once again happily against the Boss’s crouch. 

An arm swung out and anchored her furthered, and Historia leaned her head back against the Boss’s shoulder, panting constantly against her shoulder.

“Chirtsa…”, the Boss starts, gliding her hands down her stomach, fingering her panties, “Can I touch anywhere I want?”

“ _God_ , yes” She rolled her hips in a flourish for emphasis. The hands at the tops of her panties dipped in a little, teasingly. She gasped a little, almost in surprise. Slowly, long fingers dip down, down, until a calloused finger tip brushes her clit, light as a feather. She lets out a strangled moan, and then the finger goes in, joined by another, rubbing circles around the sensitive nub. 

“Ha…” Historia was trying to retain some rational thought, but it became harder as she dealt with the thought the Boss’s long, _long_ fingers in her. 

“I-I need-” 

“Shh,” The Boss’s hand was fully down her panties now, poised at her entrance but not quite entering. A nip at her neck distracted her briefly, until she felt one of those long fingers plunge inside her and she tipped her neck back so far she thought it might break. It worked in and out at a smooth pace, occasionally catching her clit, and Historia was almost embarrassed the way she was falling apart. 

“B-boss,” she starts, but then another finger joins the first and she feels herself rock forward in the other woman’s grasp, held steady by an arm anchoring around her middle. The fingers were picking up pace, steadily fucking Historia towards a finish as she tried desperately to ignore the noise her dripping wet pussy made as they entered and exited her. 

“Oh, Christa,” She felt hot breath on her neck, then lips, then teeth, gnawing slightly at her pulse point and leading her to further buck her hips almost wildly. 

“H-His,” She managed out, unsure what she was doing.

Non-horny Historia would have killed her. 

‘His-Historia. My-my name,” She hoped she was getting her point across. 

“Ah, little dove. A stage name. Of course. Well,” She slid a third finger in, pumping it faster, harder. “Do you like this, Historia?”

“Y-yes, Boss” ‘

“Well then” The fingers inside her crook upwards, hitting that spot, and Historia nearly screams out, burying her neck in the Boss’s shoulder. 

“Call me Ymir.” She said this with another brush of Historia’s spot, leading a drawn out moan from the blonde.

“Y-ymir, Can I please-” She squirmed against Ymir’s hand, so _so_ close, missing something that she couldn't quite place- 

“ _Come for me, Historia_ " 

Historia’s orgasm shoots through her like a rocket. She vaguely notices how she clenches around the Boss’s- _Ymir’s!_ fingers, how slick runs down her thighs as she squirts around Ymir’s hand, but mostly she notes the way Ymir was looking at her. 

Reverence. Like Historia ruled the world. Like she was fighting the urge to not dip her tongue down and lap up everything Historia had to offer. Ymir’s sharp eyes hold hers, watching every change in expression, every shudder, every gasp. 

Slowly, Historia comes down, and pawns at Ymir’s shirt clumsily. Ymir pulls her long, slender fingers out. They catch the light, revealing how soaked with slick they are.Her cunt contracts around the empty space Ymir’s fingers had once occupied and she whines. 

“Y-your turn”

“Oh no, little dove,” Ymir pushes her gently off her, and stands, reaching for the bowl, reaching for her jacket, her gun, tucking it back in its holster. 

“I had quite the time just watching. I hope to again, quite soon” There was a faint blush to Ymir’s cheeks, proving Historia hadn’t been the only excited one, a faint rise and fall of her chest that couldn’t hide the way she was worked up .

But Historia was having trouble processing- Ymir was leaving? After that? 

Ymir must have sensed her unease, dragging the still seated Historia in to a biting kiss, all tongue and dominance, battling for control. Ymir won out, as she cupped Historia’s chin gently in her hand.

Pulling away, Ymir continues to grasp her face, catching Historia’s eye, forcing her to make eye contact. She pushes a tiny card towards her that Historia is barely cognizant enough to grasp. 

“I hope to be back soon. But, if not, until next time, little dove”

And with that, Ymir turned and left, laying an envelope of bills from her wallet on the side table, leaving Historia with slick soaked thighs and tousled hair still on the lounge. 

\------

Ymir tends to think of herself as pretty controlled. Of course as soon as Chris- _Historia_ had started grinding against her it had all gone out the window. She ran a giant drug conglomerate, running millions of dollars of dope an hour. She’d seen the wanted pictures. She dodged a bullet at least twice or week, or it was a slow week. Rationally, she should have never told her her name. But something, _something_ inside her told her she could trust her, that she should trust her, and then her name was tumbling out. 

As soon as she got home (after shooing off Bertie and Reiner, and making sure Marlow, now covered in hickeys, made it to her hotel), Ymir masturbated, once, twice, three times, but it wasn’t enough. She still felt a sense of longing, even in her king bed, her penthouse suite, surrounded by her riches. 

Her collection, no her life would not be complete, until Historia was right beside her.

Besides, what’s a king without a queen?

\-------

Historia had never seen so much money at once. 

Ten thousand, in a neat little envelope. Not even creased. Fresh bills. 

Historia feels guilt, to a point. She had broken like eight house rules, the biggest being DO NOT FUCK THE CLIENT,which echoed in her head nonstop. But then she remembered the way Ymir had looked at her, the way her finger crooked just so, and she wonders if she's the one who took advantage of Ymir and her wallet. 

When she finally stumbles to bed,past Hitch, past Petra, past Armin and his questioning gaze, Historia can’t help but ignore the nagging feeling of loss that came with the lack of Ymir by her side. God, she’d only known her a night, but the magnetic pull was impossible to ignore. She had turned the little card over in her hand over and over, knowing it couldn’t be Ymir’s direct contact, knowing the effort it would take to contact her. She’d probably call it and hit a lackey. 

Would it always be that way, forever? 

She lays there, in the grey midmorning glow that happens just before sunrise, counting soft shadows across the room, and thinks how she’d really like for Ymir to come back, sometime soon.

\-------

A few weeks pass at the club, bachelor parties and Friday nights passing in a blur of panties and dollar bills and passing touches that made her recoil because they weren’t _Ymir_. She had started to wonder, idly, if she’d have to wait another six months to see her again. 

That Marlow guy kept popping in to visit Hitch every few days, driving the 8 hour round trip from Maria with ease. Hitch said he took her to dinner, got a nice hotel, “Room service and all!” 

Historia tried not to let the jealousy eat at her. 

Not when Hitch was covered in hickies, new bracelets, new clothes. Marlow was infatuated, so Hitch was on her way to becoming a kept woman as every day went by. Historia wanted to provide for herself anyway and she didn’t need some shady mob person to be successful. 

But, that’s not why she wanted her, was it? 

Their chemistry was instant and pressing, and the orgasm she’d had with her was the best she had ever had. Maybe she had Pavlov'd herself in to some pussy. 

She thought this as she ground in the air over Floch, trying to ignore the way he shoved bills harshly in to her g-string. It meant nothing. She was drier than the Sahara, and couldn’t help but compare every tip to the 10k one sitting pretty in her savings account. Ymir wouldn’t do it like Floch, she’d press the bills in gently, teasingly. But Ymir probably wouldn’t come back for another year, if even, too busy running what the guy on the news called “The Largest Organized Crime Family this century has ever seen” 

She’s shook from her thoughts (even as her hips move unethanusiastically over Floch), as a chatter strikes up along the bar. No one dives for the exit, but Historia clocks the way the vein in Petra’s forehead bulges out as she runs towards the door. 

She shook her head out, trying to block out Floch’s cry of _Christa, Christa, Christa_ as his hands fight not to drag her against him. She lowers her hips a tiny bit, idly thinking of the laundry she had to fold when she returned home. 

“ _Excuse me._ ” 

A chill shot through Historia’s spine, and she turned slowly. Behind her, stood Ymir, and the two big ass lackies that followed her everywhere she went. She felt Floch tense under her, and then suddenly she was sailing towards the couch, tossed to the side as Floch fled as fast as he possibly could.

Alone and vulnerable, legs splayed open, Historia gazed up towards Ymir, who was clearly trying not to chuckle. 

“Sweet Christa,” She said this with a wink, “Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?” 

“S-sure.” She tried to right herself, adjust her bra, fix her panties. “Do they have to stay?” She gestured to dumb and dumber over her shoulder. 

“Not at all, Bertl-” She jerked her head towards the bar, “Please check that the register matches with sales. Take dickbrain with you” 

They walked away obediently after that, but Historia clocked the blond one smirking at her as he went. Ymir sat down in the booth next to her. 

Historia felt horribly underdressed. 

“Historia, if I may be so blunt,” Historia held her breath, fel herself gnawing at her bottom lip. 

Ymir stretched back, settling in to the cushions and laying a hand lazily against Historia’s thigh. Historia shifts, allows it, and tries to force herself to relax. 

“I quite enjoyed our time together. I would like to do it again-” 

“I can get a room! Real quick, I-” Historia felt the words die in her throat almost instantly, embarrassment winning out. But Ymir didn’t look irritated. Her lips curled upwards, into a gentle smile, eyes soft and kind. 

“Dove, I’d like nothing more, However,” She sips at a drink Historia hadn’t even noticed. “I would like to take you out, away from, well, here” She gestured madly.

“Don’t you own here? Historia quirked an eyebrow. 

“That I do, which is why I want to take you away.” Ymir leaned forward, grinning, and Historia fought the urge to drag her in to a kiss. “For the moment, however, I ask you to accompany to a gala in a weeks time”

“You?” Historia couldn’t help her snort. “A gala?” 

“Yes, dove. Some of my money goes to charity, you know”

Historia gulped, panicking a little. She didn't mean to insult her- 

“Hush your thoughts, little dove. I’ll send the dresses, the shoes, the car. Just be here Thursday at 5. Think you can?”

Historia grinned. Dresses for a gala meant a gown, and there was nothing more than Historia loved than a gown. 

She was the _queen_ afterall. 

“Certainally, Boss” 

A hand caught her chin and dragged it forward, until she was inches away from Ymir. 

“Say, my name, huh? Just for me”

The eyes meeting hers were strong and steely, yet almost desperate.

It touched something in Historia.

“Of course, _Ymir_ ” 

Without thinking, Historia surges forward, capturing Ymir’s lips on her own, kissing deep once, twice, reveling in the heady taste, and pulling back, grinning smugly at Ymir. 

The other stood, but Historia saw how relaxed she was. 

“ Until next time, little dove” 

And with that, Ymir disappeared back towards her lackeys, towards whatever she dealt with, and Historia was left trying to figure out how to wax off all her body hair before Thursday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again sm for reading! I live off comments- btw if you've commented and I haven't answered its bc im a gremlin who reads them and gets so inspired/happy then immediately gets back to writing and gets distracted, I love you all! thank sm for the continued support


	4. Lots of Pining

“You seem a little distracted.” 

Historia whips her head around and glares at Annie, hunching herself over laptop protectively in the process. 

Annie didn’t need to see that she’d been staring at the same empty word doc for an hour. 

And she couldn’t help that she’d been tapping her leg methodically (probably maddeningly for her roomates) for an hour too, honestly maybe longer, she’d kind of lost track. 

Annie moves from her spot in kitchen, where she’d been cooking some vegan stir fry thing, and walks over to Historia, taking a seat next to her at the table. 

“Need help?” 

“Annie I don’t think you can help me with a fucking abstract for a master’s program you’re not even _in_ ” Historia couldn’t help the venom in her voice, she had the worst writer’s block she’s maybe ever had. Her mind kept drifting back to Ymir, her in Ymir’s lap, Ymir’s hands down her pants-

“Whoa,” Annie puts her hands up in a mock defense, “Don’t bite my head off. I mean with what else is bothering you. Obviously” She says this part with an eye roll, taking a bite of her stir fry.

“I don’t want to talk about it” Historia averts her eyes back to her laptop and starts tapping away again, typing a sentence she knows she’s going to delete as soon as Annie walks away. 

What could she say to Annie anyway? Hey, Annie, I broke the cardinal rule of exotic dancing and fucked my client, NOT only that, but she’s a wanted leader of an organized crime family, who invited ME, of all people, to a fancy charity gala, and hopefully after a night of dancing and drinks she’ll take me back to where ever drug lords live and fuck me senselesss? 

Yeah, she couldn’t say that. 

Annie was so protective, had always been so protective, ever since they were randomly assigned as roommates back in freshman year of undergrad. She taught Historia self defense after she complained about being cat-called on the street, helped her fill out scholarship applications so she could stay in school, and kept her company when she pulled all nighters. Even now, years later, Annie’s protective streak hasn’t ended. She drove her to and from her job when she started, and even sat in the audience sometimes to make sure people kept their hands to themselves. For a while Historia thought that Annie was interested in her, but she’d come to realize that Anne had seen a bit of herself in Historia. They both had rough childhoods, Annie hitting foster care at 12 and Historia living with a mother who hated her guts and could barely stomach being around her. She’d been so shy and timid when she’d come to college, and really had to credit Annie for pulling her out of her shell. 

She told her everything, but didn’t think she could tell her this. If Annie found out she was dating someone she met at the club that’d be one issue, but a drug lord? Yeah, that was a non starter. 

Annie pushed the food around on her plate loudly, humming idly and starting back at Historia every few seconds. 

“Fuck! Fine!” Historia takes a steading breath and turns to face her. “I- I have a date.”

“Historia!” Annie grinned and shoved her shoulder playfully. “Why would you not tell me?” 

Historia mulled that for a second, before finally deciding on, “It’s just been a while, I guess. Don’t want to jinx it”

Annie chewed her food thoughtfully and nodded. “I guess it has been. Well,” She paused to chew, “Tell me about her, when’s the date?” 

“Friday, uh,” Historia thoughts raced. “Sh-she’s a little older, uh taller than me, very sophisticated. She’s pretty high up in the...business world” She winces inwardly “Y’know, whatever that means”

“Cool, cool. Well,” Annie stands and takes her plate to the kitchen, rinsing it in the sink. “Let me know if I need to kick someone’s ass, ‘kay?” 

“Always, Annie” She smiled weakly. Keeping the truth from Annie hurts, but Historia knows she needs to hold it to her chest a little longer. 

“I’m going out with Mikasa tonight, probably gonna sleep over.” Annie shrugs on her jacket and grabs her keys. “Wanna get lunch tomorrow?” 

“Sure. Bye, Annie” 

“Bye, His” 

Annie closes the door behind her and Historia feels herself relax instantly. She sags in her chair, closing the lid to her laptop and rubbing her face with her hands. She had no clue what she's getting herself into with Ymir, but something inside her tugged in her, told her that she was making the right choice, that she needed to get to know Ymir. 

After another couple minutes focusing on her nerves and the creeping anxiety of her unstarted abstract devolved into thinking once again about Ymir’s big hands running up her body and down into her panties. 

_Well, Annie’s not home anyway,_ She thinks, as she heads back to her bedroom, rusting around in the box under her bed. She pulls out her favorite vibrator, a pink rabbit one. She peels off her leggings, tossing them in the vicinity of her desk chair, her pink lace panties quickly following suit. She lays herself out on the bed and rubs her at her clit with her fingers lazily, thoughts drifting easily to Ymir. 

She positions the vibrator at her entrance, the upper portion of it nestled against her clit, and turns it on, sighing and closing her eyes as it starts its vibrations. Massaging her opening with the vibrator, she pictures Ymir, leaning over her, hot breath against her ear. She pictures Ymir pressing this vibrator into her cunt and gasps at that, finally pressing the toy inside. Ymir holding her thighs open as she squirms against the pulses of the vibrator. 

_What’s the matter, little dove?_ She hears Ymir saying, picturing her pressing the vibrator in deeper. _“Do you like this?”_ Ymir in fantasy is smirking, a glint of something in her eyes. _“Your pussy certainly seems to, look at you. So wet_ Historia lets out a moan, and flicks the vibrator up a setting, thrusting it faster in and out of herself. 

Ymir in her head is ghosting kissing down her neck, nipping at her the juncture between neck and shoulder. Ymir in her head is licking at her breasts, capturing a nipple in her mouth and sucking as she increases the pace of the vibrator. Historia feels herself growing wetter around the vibrator, thighs now soaked, a wet stain forming underneath her. She frantically around it, bucking her hips against the vibrator and letting out frantic moans everything her clit connects with the upper part of the vibrator. 

Ymir in her head has pulled back, smirking down at her. _“Oh, you’re so close._ She amps the vibrator up one more setting. She increases her pace, focusing on hitting Historia’s clit dead on everytime. _C’mon, dove. Come for me, Historia”_ Just like that night at the club, Historia feels her orgasm hitting her like a truck, feels herself gushing around the vibrator as she clenches impossibly tighter around it, letting out a strangled moan of _Ymir!_ as she does. She’s too spent to pull the vibrator out immediately, only doing so when the overstimulation begins to cause her to whimper. 

It’s so fucking soaked, so sticky, that Historia is embarrassed. Again, another insane orgasm courtesy of Ymir, and she wasn’t even _here_. Historia was so gone for her already. 

_“Goddammit,”_ She thinks, staring back down at the wet spot on her comforter. _“Now I have to do the fucking laundry”_ . 

\--------

Ymir cards her hands through her hair and lets out a sigh of frustration, gazing at the mountain of paperwork on her desk. Nobody told her being a mob boss meant so much _fucking paper work._

Leaning back in her chair, she lets her thoughts wander a little, back to the same place they’d been consistently wandering to for weeks now. To Historia, to her smile and the tilt of her head and her body -of course. To the face that Ymir couldn’t get out of her head, of Historia cumming while seated on top of her, head tossed back in ecstasy, breasts heaving. To the way her pussy clenched around Ymir’s fingers, trying to keep them seated in her. To how _wet_ they were when Ymir finally pulled them out. 

Ymir was a little far gone, to put it lightly. She knew she was far gone, because she was masturbating like a teenager nearly every day, thinking of light blue eyes and blonde hair consuming her as she did. 

She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t a little nervous, or maybe worried, at the thought of bringing Historia along as her date. Ymir lived in a dangerous world, and she didn’t know if she wanted to bring Historia into that, or Historia would even want that. Somehow, the thought of Historia turning her back on her, twinged something in her heart. 

She’d brought this up to Bertholdt and Reiner one night in her office, right after she’d spent hours on the phone with her stylist trying to figure out the perfect dresses to send over to Historia. 

“We need to make sure there’s extra security. Beyond extra security.” She twirls her knife around her fingers. 

“Yeah, of course Ymir” Betholdt nods, “We’ll get extra detail from Marlow. Should be easy enough” 

“I just-” Ymir sighs in frustration and slams the knife down into the table. “I want to make this as safe as possible. For her”  
“You can’t guarantee her safety forever, Ymir. Someone’s going to figure out she’s your weak spot” Reiner points out from his spot on the couch. “You’re only just met her and she’s occupying all your thoughts” Ymir glares at him and wiggles the knife out of the table. “You know I’m right.” 

“I don’t want you to be right.” Ymir drags the tip of the blade along her fingers absentmindedly. She didn’t like being vulnerable, even if it was in front of her closest confidants, and especially doesn’t want to be vulnerable to her enemies. That’s what had let her rule so easily. She had nothing to lose. Only, now she thinks she does. 

“Yeah well-” 

“Hey!” Bertholdt stands at this and throws his arms out. “We’re the most powerful gang in the fucking country. If we can’t protect her then we don’t deserve that title.” He looks pointedly at Reiner. “We’ll get the extra security from Marlow, and it’ll be fucking peachy.” 

Reiner sits petulant with his arms crossed, but finally lets out the breath he’d been holding in a frustrated sigh. 

“I just want you to be safe, Ymir. Adding an extra person we don’t know, I just-” He sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “I just want you to be safe” 

“I know, and I thank you for that, Reiner.” She puts her knife down against her desk. 

Always the fixer, Bertholdt keeps talking. “I’ll send security to stake out at her house and at the club. Petra mentioned she’s a student, so I’ll send some the university as well” 

Ymir feels herself smile. For two giant knuckleheads, they’d always been good to her, accepting her into the family as if she was born in it. 

“Thanks, Bertie” 

“Don’t worry about it, Boss” He waves his hands dismissively and stands to leave, monitoring for Reiner to join him. As he reaches the door, he turns and smiles softly. “You deserve to be happy Ymir. I like seeing you smile” With that he leaves the room. 

Presently, Ymir reflects on everything she’s done in the past week to get everything ready for Friday. The security flown in from Maria, the dresses and shoes she’d had sent over to Marley’s for Historia to choose from, the soul searching that had come with realizing she now had something to lose. She had the new security trained to her standard, (Reiner took the lead on that one), and had Bertholdt strike a deal with the local cops to keep them as far fucking away as they possibly could be from the venue on Friday. 

Now all Ymir had left to do was ruminate on this coming Friday night. She wondered which of the dresses she picked, secretly hoping it would be the pastel pink that matched the bra and panties she’d been wearing the first time Ymir had seen her. It dipped low in the front, and would expose Historia’s perky cleavage. Of course, if Ymir saw anyone starting too much she’d have to cut their fingers off. Naturally. 

She’s jarred from her thoughts by her phone ringing, shrill and harsh. 

“Yes?” She listens absentmindedly as one of her lower ranking men, Eren, talked about the logistics of a deal they had going on this weekend. She sighed to herself as she listened, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. 

Friday seemed so far away. 

\--------

“Historia!” Hitch barreled towards her vanity, giggling as she went. “Look what came for you!” She was carrying a huge box, straining under the weight of it a little. Dumping it on Historia’s vanity, she grins. 

“Oh this must be…” The words die in Historia’s throat. The box is huge and heavy, and she could only begin to imagine how much everything inside cost. Grabbing her manicure scissors, she cuts the tape open and gasps. Hitch squeals behind her. 

“They’re so pretty! Oh Hissie!” 

Four dresses were inside, one pink, two blue, and one white. They all looked _very_ expensive. 

“Try them on, oh please! Let me see!” 

Historia obliged, trying the white one on first. 

(“Too bridal” Hitch says, scrunching up her nose) 

Next came the light blue, with a slit up the side and jewels around the collar. 

(“Not bad, Hissie but I don’t know how I feel about all the gems”) 

Then came the dark blue. 

(“Eh, too dark”) 

Finally came the pink. A light pastel with a plunging neckline, Historia had to admit it was her favorite of the bunch. Slipping it on, Historia knew it was the one with the way Hitch squealed. 

“Oh! Oh Hissie it’s so perfect!” Historia turned to look at herself in the mirror and smiled. It really was perfect. It shimmered in the light, floating out gently as she turned to gaze at herself in the mirror from all angles. 

Historia couldn’t wait until Friday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! thanks again so much for the continued support! I'm having a busy week but I'm sure I'll end up working on this instead of my work lmao.
> 
> also questions- do we want action? a lil angst? I'm trying to decide if I want to include that in this one and make it a long fic or break it up in to a series. 
> 
> also also- got any AU suggestions for a Yelena/Pieck fic?


	5. The Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! just a heads up/content warning this chapter has some v light violence as well as some brief sexual harassment, both of these things are over pretty quick and near the end of the chapter.

Suddenly (or so it seemed to Historia), it was Friday at noon and she had five hours to get ready. She supposed to most people that was a lot of time, but most people weren’t dates to a dangerous mob boss keen on showing them off at fucking _charity gala_ of all places, most people didn’t get a box of designer dresses delivered to their work, thanks very much. 

Historia soaked in her tub for a while, ignoring the nasty grout and weird stains that were there when she moved in exchange for the calming sensations of the warm water enveloping her on all sides. She had tossed a bath bomb in for good measure, hoping that the smell of it would calm her down. 

She’d barely slept the night before. 

She had a feeling that accompanying Ymir to anything was a pretty big deal, especially when she couldn’t shake the fear that she’d screw something up from her bones. 

She sinks further in the bath and watches her hair fan out in the sparkly water around her.

\------

Ymir was very calm, _very fucking calm!_ Friday afternoon, for anyone who’s asking. She had everything prepared for a week, the security, the cars, anything and everything Historia needed; she’d even had her apartment professionally cleaned in the hopes that maybe, maybe Historia might accompany her home. 

She didn’t want to assume anything. 

She dresses way too early, too many hours in advance, but she couldn’t help it. She feels like a kid getting ready for the fucking prom. Her suit was perfectly tailored to both her measurements and to hide her holsters against her while making her look slim and imposing. 

Reiner had mocked her nerves incessantly, until Bertholdt had smacked him across the head and fussed at him in a harsh whisper that had even had Ymir flinching. 

Ymir didn’t do relationships, didn’t let anyone close to her, and for good fucking measure. She lived a dangerous life, and letting anyone into her world only increased that. The closest people to her were Bertholdt and Reiner, but they were in the business too. She didn’t know what about Historia broke down her barriers, they barely even knew each other, but it was enough to make her begin to throw caution to the wind. 

She checks herself in the mirror once more, adjusting her suit, checking her cufflinks and heads to the kitchen to make herself a drink. 

\--------

“You look beautiful, Historia” 

Petra’s smile was warm and genuine, and Historia offered a shy one back. Petra and Hitch had been floating around her for the last hour, curling her hair, applying her blush, gluing sticky false lashes to her own. 

“Thanks” She really did look beautiful. The soft pink of the dress accented her blonde hair and blue eyes, the slit on the side of it showing flashes of her legs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this dressed up- probably never now that she thinks about it. She felt a little like a fish out of water, especially considering the variety of undress that surrounded her on all sides by her co-workers, but she found that she liked it. 

A knock on the door draws her from her thoughts, and she watches and Petra leans her head, conversing with Oulo for a second before returning back. 

“She’s here, His” 

A shudder ran down her spine, not fear, but excitement. 

Okay, well, maybe a _little_ fear. 

She stood, legs only a little wobbly, and followed Petra out of the dressing room and through the bar. She barely registered cat calls and whooping around her, the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Right outside the front door was a limo, with a very _very_ sexy looking Ymir leaning against it lazily. She was dressed in a dark suit that fit her so well Historia felt her mouth go dry. Her legs look long, her arms look strong and firm. Idly, Historia wonders if Ymir could fuck her against the wall, with those strong arms holding up and open. She blushes when she realizes Ymir is smirking at her, as if Ymir could hear her dirty thoughts. 

Ymir steps forward and takes Historia’s hand, bringing it up to her mouth and laying a soft kiss upon it. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, Historia” Ymir’s gaze was sharp but kind, opening something deep within Historia. She feels arousal shoot through her, and has to fight to urge to squirm. 

“Thank you, I-” A strong arm snakes its way around her hip, pulling her in closer. Suddenly, all her senses were full of Ymir, the strong scent of her cologne, the quirk of her lips. A hand dips and rests on the small of her back, teasing. 

“You what, dove?” Ymir asks in a husky whisper, and Historia feels herself shudder again. 

“I-i just wanted to thank you, for the dress and uh, stuff” She feels herself blush and looks away.

Historia wanted to smack herself, acting like a goddamn horny little teenager the second she gets any attention from Ymir. She’s pulled from her thoughts by a hand on her chin, that gently turns her face back to Ymir’s.

“Little dove, the pleasure is all mine.” Historia felt the intensity of the gaze, the way she could tell Ymir was staring at her lips, following the way her tongue came out and nervously licked her bottom lip. She was secretly grateful that Petra had made herself scarce and disappeared back inside. She was never this affected by anyone. Sure, her clients were usually old, grabby men, but the appeal of Historia, the _success_ of Historia was how sauve she was, how unaffected she was by anything. She could fake it for fifteen minutes and then be happily counting her money a room over, the fleeting hands of whoever had been her client disappeared somewhere back in her mind. 

“Now,” Ymir releases her waist, stepping back and opening the back door of the limo. Historia hopes she doesn’t see how her knees wobble without Ymir holding on to her.

“Shall we?” 

\---------

Ymir was delighted with the way the night was going. The ride to the gala had been relaxed, the two of them sipping champagne, Ymir’s hand firmly resting on Historia’s thigh. Ymir had learned that Historia was fairly talkative once she relaxed a little, even more talkative with some champagne in her. She’d learned all about Historia’s Master’s program, about her friends, about how she started working at the club. Ymir even shared a little about herself, something she didn’t do often, but again, Historia brought out a different side of her. 

By the time they’d reached the gala, the champagne bottle empty and rolling around on the floor of the limo, Ymir felt a growing warmth in her chest every time she looked at Historia, everytime those baby blue eyes met her own.  
“Ymir?” Ymir startles a little, realizing she’d zone out while staring at Historia’s perfect, beautiful, incredibly distracting face. 

“Sorry,” She smiles, a little sheepishly, hoping Historia didn’t notice the faint blush on her cheeks. “My mind was wandering” 

“It’s alright, I’m probably boring you, I know I get super chatty when I drink sometimes and I’m, _ha_ a little nervous and-” 

Ymir silences her by pressing her lips softly against the other’s, cupping Historia’s face gently as she did. She feels Historia freeze for a millisecond, but then just as suddenly she’s melting against Ymir, looping her arm Ymir’s neck, pulling her closer. Ymir skims her hand down Historia’s side, settling firmly against her waist. Historia’s mouth opens in gasp, and Ymir takes this opportunity to press her tongue inside Historia’s mouth, reveling in the hot, heady taste in her mouth. 

They’re interrupted by a knock on the window of the limo, causing Historia to jump and wipe frantically at her mouth as Ymir rolled down the window. 

“Yes, asshat?” Ymir drawls, glaring at Reiner, face covered in a shit-eating grin. 

“Hate to interrupt all of,” He gestures at Historia’s smudged lipstick and Ymir’s mussed up suit. “ _This_ ”, but you’re kinda holding up the valet line”

“Fuck off, Reiner” Ymir shoves the car door open, nearly toppleing Reiner over in the process, and stands, adjusting her suit. “I own this fucking city, I’ll back up whatever line I want.” She leans back into the limo and offers a hand to a blushing Historia, who takes it, refusing to meet Reiner’s eye as she does. 

Ymir offers the crook of her arm to Historia, who takes it, clutching tightly, as they walk in to the gala

\-------

Historia had never seen so much opulence in her life. The gala was held at a huge estate on the outskirts of Trost. Flowers and perfectly manicured shrubs decorate the circular driveway, fairy lights strung up above, twinkling like the stars. The inside of the manor was even more fancy, if that was possible. Rich wallpapers and chandeliers adorned the entryway, antique furniture pushed along the walls. Historia tried to keep it together, tried to act sauve, but she could tell she was failing miserably. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” Ymir leaned over and whispered in her ear. Historia realizes her jaw had been hanging open slightly, and shuts it with an audible click. Ymir laughs. 

“You’re fine. I remember the first time I came here. It can be...overwhelming.” 

Ymir plucks two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter and hands one to Historia. 

“And what is here?” Historia gestures and takes a sip of champagne. 

Ymir guides her through the throng of people, and Historia notices the way people nearly break their necks to move out of the way of Ymir. The way people’s eyes hold a mix of adoration in fear, the hushed whispers that follow them. 

It makes her feel powerful. 

“This is my...colleague's house. Levi. I’m sure you’ll meet him in due time.” She smiles warmly down at Historia. “He has a flair for the dramatic, if you haven’t been able to tell.” 

Historia continues to take in her surroundings, the lavish paintings, the suit of armor, the large hulking men in black standing a careful watch in the corner. 

“Ah, there he is.” Ymir points at a rather small (and that’s rich, coming from Historia) man with dark hair and what appeared to be a permanent scowl etched on his face. The man notices and approaches. 

“Ymir.” 

“Levi.” 

The man’s- Levi’s- eyes settle on Historia and she feels herself squirm under his harsh gaze. 

“And who’s this?” 

Historia straightened her back and tried to regain her confidence. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, just like on stage. 

“Historia.” She offers her hand coyly and he takes it lightly. “Historia Reiss” She watches with satisfaction as his eyebrows shoot up in to his hairline before regaining his stoic composure. She also notices the way Ymir turns her face towards her in shock as well. 

“A Reiss...I was under the impression there were no more Reiss. At least in Trost” 

“Well,” She shrugs and simpers under his gaze. “There’s at least one left. Benefits of being a bastard I suppose” 

Levi chuckles wrly at that and swigs his drink. 

“Ah, well. I understand that.” He turns back to Ymir. “I hate to talk shop here but…” He nods over at two stately doors that Historia assumes lead in to an office. 

“Yes, fine, I understand” Ymir turns to Historia and tucks a strand of hair behind her hair tenderly and Historia sees her lips quirk with worry. “Historia-” 

“It’s alright, Ymir. I can take care of myself for a few minutes.” 

Ymir snorts at that and shakes her head. 

“I don’t doubt that, however,” Ymir scans the room and gestures at someone behind Historia. “Why don’t you stay here with Hange, for the moment? For my own sake” 

“Of course, Ymir.”

Someone, who Historia assumes is Hange, bounds up excitedly and Ymir whispers something in her ear before reaching out and squeezing Historia’s shoulder briefly before following Levi to his office. 

“Hi! I’m Hange, I’ve heard a lot about you from Bert and Reiner and-” 

Hange was incredibly talkative as Historia soon came to find out, probably exacerbated by the champagne they kept plucking off passing waiters. 

“Hange,” Historia interrupts halfway through Hange’s drunken tirade about the interworking of...something about ancient Greek mythology? Historia isn’t super sure. “I hate to interrupt but, what is this event for?” 

“Ah! It’s for the Warriors of Trost. It’s a charity Levi runs. It’s how him and Ymir met. And Reiner and Bertie” Hange reaches back towards the wall and steadies themself a little. 

“And that is…?” Historia prompts. 

“Oh! Ha! Right, so it’s like,” Hange lets out a loud belch. “It’s like uh, orphanage. They take in kids off the street and let them live here and then like,” (Belch) “Pay for their education and stuff.” 

“And that’s how Ymir met Levi?” Hange nods emphatically. 

“Y-yeah, ‘cept she didn’t seem too into the whole education thing. So,” Hange steadies themself again. “She joined Levi in y’know, the business.” She says this last part with dramatic air quotes. “Not that Levi was happy about it. He always wanted to keep her out of it, but,” Hange shrugs. “She sort of fell in to it” 

Historia nods thoughtfully, taking in this new information. 

“H-ey,” Hange hiccups “P-probably don’t tell her I told you that” 

“Don’t worry, Hange” Historia reassures. “I appreciate you telling me” 

“You’re welcome” This comes out slurred, and before Historia can react, Hange is dashing off towards a nearby potted plant and vomiting in the planter. 

“D-don’t mention this either” Was all Hange got out before they were throwing up again.

Historia laughs lighting and sips at her drink,wondering idly when Ymir will be done. It’s been way longer than the ten minutes she was originally promised, and while she didn’t mind hanging out with Hange, she yearned for Ymir back at her side.

“Hey. Hey!” Historia startles and turns around to see a middle aged man in a tux walking towards her. “I know you!” 

She feels herself shrinking into herself, backing towards the wall. Hange was still voiding their stomach on that poor peace lily and Reiner and Bertholdth were nowhere to be found. 

“N-no, sir, I don’t think you do” She keeps her eyes down.

“Yes, I do” He grabs her then, by the chin and jerks her face up to meet him. “Yeah, yeah I do” His breath is hot and rancid and Historia puts her hands up on his chest, trying to shove him off. 

“You’re that stripper. _Christa_ , isn’t it? At Marley’s.” Another hand grabs her wrists, big enough to trap both of them in his grasp. “So, who ya fucking to get invited here?” 

Historia’s world was spinning and she felt herself slipping further in to panic. Where was Ymir? 

“I-” She starts but struggles to focus when she’s more than a little tipsy and trapped up against the wall. 

“Oh, I get it.” The man leers closer. “You’re here as entertainment huh? Go on then,” The hand gripping her chin drifts down to her the strap of her dress, fingering it lazily. “Show us the goods. It’s not like I haven’t seen them before” 

Before Historia can react, the fingers are gone, the hand trapping her is gone, and she can breathe again. She reaches out for the wall to steady herself, and gasps at the sight before her. 

Ymir is there, gripping the man by his collar with one hand, punching him over and over as she pins him to the ground. She then slams his head into the hardwood, letting out harsh, angry breaths every few seconds. 

“You,” She emphasizes this with another head slam to the floor. “Do not.” Another slam. “Touch her.” 

The man is unconscious at this point, blood trickling off his temple and onto the floor. Ymir breathes heavily, raggedly, as she regains herself, and then jumps up, rushing to Historia, grabbing her gingerly by the shoulders. 

“Are you alright? I’m so fucking sorry I never should have left-” Historia is having a little trouble focusing. Maybe it’s the blood flecking Ymir’s shirt or maybe its the feeling of the entire party starting at then or maybe, just maybe it was the way this incredibly possessive display of behavior, of Ymir’s absolute willingness to protect her, was sending a funny feeling through Historia. 

A funny feeling like arousal. 

Why was she turned on by that? 

“Historia? Dove, please-” Historia realizes she’s zoned completely out and smiles weakly at Ymir, effectively shutting her up. 

“Th-thank you, Ymir. I’m okay, really.” She reaches a hand out and places a hand on Ymir’s cheek, before pulling her into a chaste kiss. “Thank you”

Ymir’s smile wobbles a little, and Historia kisses her again. 

“Jesus fuck” Historia pulls back and sees Levi, standing with one hand on his hip and the other punching the bridge of his nose. “Ymir, I just got this floor fucking buffed. Do you know how expensive that is?” He kicks the unconscious man with his toes and lets out an angry huff. “Fucking blood’s so hard to get out” 

Ymir straightens, suddenly back to her full form and confidence, as if remembering to place her mask back on. 

“I’ll pay it double, Levi, don’t worry.” She gestures to the other side of the room, and two large, hulking men approach the unconscious man. “Handle him.” Ymir says with a dismissive wave and the men nod, dragging the man off to...somewhere Historia doesn’t really want to dwell on at the moment. 

“Hey,” Ymir’s attention is back on Historia, her thumb rubbing soft circles against her wrist. “Do you wanna go? We can get out of here, go to dinner or something” 

Historia thinks about it for a moment, of the throbbing arousal she currently feels  
pounding through her, of what she is sure is wetness sticking her thighs together and nods. 

“I’d like that.” Ymir grins wide and takes Historia’s hand, leading her away from the scene. 

“Oh, uh, wait one second!” Historia doubles back and taps Levi on the shoulder. “You uh,” She points at the peace lily. “Might want to check on Hange” 

“Goddammit Hange!” He shouts, before barreling towards Hange “Do you know how expensive a full blown lily like that is-” 

Historia giggles and returns to Ymir’s side, letting her once more grab her hand, and lead her out of the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being patient with me for this chapter! this last week I had like a million midterms (that I somehow got A's on- score). Thank you also for the continued support and comments, I LIVE for the comments you guys keep me going! xoxo I'll be back soon 
> 
> ps I know this was Historia POV heavy but that felt right bc she's like in a new environment and stuff! you'll hear from ymir again soon


End file.
